


Fuck Around and Find Out

by MisterStalker



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Autistic Geralt, Chapter 4 is just fucking from start to finish, Classicism, Feral Behavior, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Thinks He Is a Monster, Jaskier's father is "ok", Light-Hearted, M/M, Marathon Sex, Mutual Attraction, No Homophobia, Oral Sex, Sexual Tension, and yet they are still pining, primal, slutty jaskier, they do, will they wont they
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28230384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MisterStalker/pseuds/MisterStalker
Summary: A young Julian Pankratz is determined to get a witcher in his bed, and Geralt of Riviia does his best to make the young man see sense. It's a battle of wills that can only end one of two ways: a platonic friendship or getting fucked into next week.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 32
Kudos: 108





	1. Fuck (And I Cannot Stress This Enough) ME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a young Julian Pankratz decides he absolutely must get fucked by a witcher ar all costs.

The contract was to kill off some simple vodnik, a dangerous variety of drowner, along the shoreline of a wealthy estate. Easy work, especially for a seasoned witcher. The viscount, and lord of the estate, was paying well and offering an additional few crowns for every vodnik slain.

The contract would last for one week. Starting on the day of his arrival, lasting through the Viscount Pankratz's soiree.

The viscount's generous pay left no reason to haggle and it was clear the noble born did not want to. He was too gentle-born to embarrass himself by arguing over a small sum of coins. Although Geralt found the rules of noblemen to be laughable at times, it worked out in his favour every now and again.

Geralt found more vodnik emerging from the lake on this day than the previous day, much to the benefit of his pay. Mid-spring always saw a surge in their population but it wasn't so out-of-hand to consider it an infestation yet.

He was trudging up the long path from the shore to the fish and game hut, dripping with fresh water from the lake, and counting his earnings already. Five vodnik heads hanging from his fist were dripping black blood in the dirt.

He dropped the heads inside the shed, adding them to a pile of nine gathered for when he'd collect his pay. 

Geralt looked down to the vacant shore to confirm there were no more vodnik. He expected there wouldn't be any more appearing until dusk, at earliest, which allowed plenty of time for him to sit somewhere comfortable and mix his potions.

He had a favourite place for doing that: a secluded area between the garden wall and the apartments where the staff lived. He found the pleasant little spot while patrolling on his first evening and no one had bothered him there yet, which quickly made it a favourite.

It was quiet, and sunny enough to dry off after being in the cold water. With only a stone wall between himself and the garden courtyard, the sweet smell of flowers, especially buttercups, replaced the odor of vodnik blood. This contract was as close to a holiday vacation as he could possibly find for himself.

As Geralt went to his treasured private place, he walked along the front of the estate only to be sure that Roach was still well. He let her roam freely on the stretching grassy lawns around the manor. She was enjoying the luxuries this place had to offer as well: a trough of fresh water, sweet lush grass, and no wild animals or off-leash dogs.

Geralt's gaze went to another horse coming along the path: an expensive breed known for its inky black coat and majestically long waving tail. He did not need to recognize the rider to know he was a nobleman, likely here on some personal business with the Lord of the manor. He continued on his way around the garden wall to the sunny bench where he could mix his witcher potions in peace.

He was close enough to the front of the manor that he could overhear the young man's arrival, although he didn't intend to eves-drop. People had a tendency to be loud enough for him to hear them, not realizing quite how keen a witcher's ears could be.

The Viscount Pankratz came out of his home to greet the newcomer with warmth, "You're here! Hurry, hurry, put your steed in the stable and come inside. No wait, first, come down let me see you, Julian."

"There, there Pegasus," Julian cooed, coming to an easy stop without needing to pull the reins. With practiced ease he swung one leg off the noble mount and landed lightly on the flat stone steps. He smoothed a hand down the length of her soft mane and smiled. "You've been so good for me. Time for you, and I, to take a much needed break, hm?" 

"It's good to see you again, father," Julian replied, a young pep in his voice as he turned his attention to his father.

Geralt hummed unintentionally, identifying the newcomer as the son of the lord. He was a young heir with rich tastes judging by the horse that came in. Geralt knew the type.

"I have so much to tell you!" Julian continued,  
"But first, tell me how you are. Has anything interesting happened while I was gone?"

His father, Lord Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, gripped the young man's arms and gave him a loving squeeze that crinkled the satins and silks of his garb. "We missed our boy, making us proud in Oxenfurt! That was the worst of it. But take care of your horse then join us inside, your mother will want to see you."

The lord seemed to be finished speaking when something else came to mind. His tone changed, "You will notice I've sent away a lot of staff, Julian… and I replaced all of the usual guards with a witcher so that you would show some decency and stop fucking the help while you are here."

Geralt's hands stilled in the middle of mixing a decoction and he looked over his shoulder in the direction of the voice, both annoyed and surprised. He hadn't been aware of this additional role he had been hired for: to keep the viscount's son from embarrassing his family with an affair.

By the tone of the father it was apparently a private matter so he couldn't be too surprised he wasn't told. But he could not help being unhappy to learn he was at least partially hired because when he presented himself the father considered the witcher to be sexually repellent.

The father clapped a hand on Julian's shoulder firmly to conclude the conversation. "Tend to Pegasus. There won't be any stable boys."

Julian couldn't help but show his disappointment with a slight frown. His expression quickly recovered when he saw the look in his father's eyes. He was serious, and not the least bit sympathetic. He nodded in quiet understanding and turned his head to face his well-behaved girl. Julian gave her a pat and rub over her head, looking deep into her soulful eyes. She seemed to understand without words, but he didn't detect a hint of sympathy from her either for his current plight. "Well then," he started, walking alongside her to their next destination. "I suppose that's all there is to it. I'm to either have no fun at all during my visit, or I'm to lower my standards. He did say he sent most of the staff away, that doesn't mean I can't..." 

Julian was keen to have a somewhat one-sided conversation with Pegasus until something caught his eye. The polished silver pommel of a sword sparkled like glass in the sunlight, and beside the sword was a man with a head of pure white hair, more bright and blinding than the metal.

While the sunlight had kissed his own brown hair with a touch of warmth and started to turn some of his hairs to a softer gold, the white locks tumbling from the other's crown had nothing to do with bleaching in the sun.

Julian knew quite a few things about witchers. He'd heard plenty of songs, and performed a few as well, though he'd had yet to meet one. He recognized the few tell tale signs immediately: the piercing yellow eyes, deep scars, and two long swords. What he didn't see, however, was whatever made men withdraw in fear. The witcher he saw was a peaceful and interesting sight. 

Julian came to a full-stop. The stables were forgotten. Interacting with others always got in the way of his responsibilities, but he wasn't one to care. He called out to the man with a "Hey you!", only to wince upon realizing that it might not make the best first impression. 

Geralt looked to his interlocutor. In one glance he could take in more than the common man, and looking at this nobleman there was a lot to take in.

He had to be the son of Viscount Pankratz. Although he was much younger, barely an adult, he had the same noble cheekbones and proud jawline as his father would have had in his youth. Most notably, his eyes matched his father's perfectly dazzling blue sapphire hue.

It was easy to see why his father was concerned about who his son spent his time with. He could cause a great number of scandals just by inviting the wrong kind of company to his bed, and he was sure no one declined an invitation to this man's bed. The older man's plan to retire the help and hire a witcher made more sense.

"Forgive me if I'm wrong," the nobleman called out afterwards, hoping he hadn't put the other off already. "But I'm sure I've never seen you around here before, and I would remember you if I had. I'm very friendly with the people who work here… You," he emphasized, "Must be the witcher my father hired." 

The witcher placed his crafting supplies on the bench beside himself and stood up to acknowledge the man speaking to him. "Master Pankratz." He might not be the type to grovel in front of noblefolk, but he preferred to show good manners and get along when he could. Especially for a well paying job. "That's right. My name is Geralt. Of Riviia."

"Geralt of Riviia," Julian couldn't help the smile that spread from his cheeks, and shook his head at the title. It always brought him straight from the clouds right into the dirt when he heard it. Stepping closer, he offered his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. But rather than 'Master Pankratz' from now on, please call me Dandelion." 

He was more than happy to be acknowledged by the witcher. Even happier that he'd gotten the start of a conversation going with him, and now that he could see the man standing at his full height, he was impressed to say the least. Geralt carried a quiet confidence with him, that much he could read, among the other details worth noting and admiring. 

He wondered if all witchers were as handsome as this one. Dandelion would have to ask sometime and find out, if he couldn't have some fun with this one.

Geralt didn't expect the friendly gesture and hesitated before accepting the greeting. He reached forward and clasped his hand around the other's forearm.

In the brief touch Geralt was surprised by the litheness of Dandelion's form, but also by the lean muscles. Geralt was certain that Dandelion was not a sword fighter, or a fighter in any other discipline. But he was active in some way that toned his arms nicely. 

Dandelion was taken aback by the very present, very real muscles in Geralt's arm when they shook, but he willed his face to not show it. He couldn't help but keep his grip, and eye contact, a second longer. The witcher had the most fascinating color of eyes and he wanted to keep looking.

"Dandelion?" The witcher asked.

"Yes?" The young man smiled pleasantly before realizing the question, "Oh! It's my stage name! I'm a poet, and soon to be a famous bard." The young man beamed proudly then raised a brow, "Did I interrupt anything while you were here?" He asked, only choosing then as the perfect moment to break away his gaze and look behind Geralt and his display of foreign items.

Geralt took a half step to the side to let the other see past him to the supplies on the bench. "Crafting supplies for the hunt. You have a bit of a vodnik problem here."

The black horse Dandelion rode in on had been forgotten briefly, but she was well behaved. She dipped her head down to brush her muzzle over soft grass. Then she turned her head to her rider and butted his shoulder with her snout.

Geralt liked the calm nature of the horse. He often believed you could tell a lot about a man by how his animals behaved around him. This horse was telling him that Dandelion made for pleasant company.

Dandelion laughed at the nudge and looked back into her big dark eyes, letting her lean in. "Pardon her, she can't help it. One moment, she'll catch me talking to someone attractive and she'll blow air up the back of my neck when I'm least expecting it. She thinks it's hilarious." As if on queue, the little prankster does just that prompting the young man to turn around and hold her bridle. They'd built a bond with each other, one paved through time and nurturing, and it showed. 

Geralt was silenced for a moment, unsure how to react. The young nobleman was not just being friendly now, he was being flirtatious. Dandelion called him attractive.

Of course, Geralt had been a witcher long enough to know that when it seemed that someone was attracted to him, they weren't. And even if they were, they were mistaken.

And even so, it didn't matter, Lord Pankratz hired the witcher so that Julian wouldn't engage in a scandalous affair.

"I ought to go to the water again, to be sure there aren't any more vodnik." Of course there would not be. He barely got back. His boots were still wet. But wading around in cool water would do him some good right about now.

Dandelion paused, he wasn't expecting Geralt to brush off his comment with that of total indifference, but he wasn't one to be easily deterred either. "How many have you caught thus far?" He asked, hoping to keep what little conversation they had going. Or, even better than talking, something physical, "I'd love to see it in action." 

Geralt picked up his tinctures and concoctions, tucking them into pockets and bags with a grunt, "I'm sure the viscount..." He looked at Dandelion, "Your father..." he added pointedly, "hired me to protect his guests from vodnik. Not for entertainment." The last thing to add was the belt holding his swords. Two long, razor sharp swords, a defining trait of Witchers.

Switching his weight from one foot to another, Dandelion nearly accepted that Geralt seemed to have a rather serious disposition about him. But Dandelion would bet a hefty coin that given just a few more minutes he could coax a smile or a laugh out of the man and see those fierce yellow eyes light up with amusement rather than scrutiny. 

"I understand," Dandelion replied, disappointed at the mention of his father. It was the quickest way to ruin the mood and remind him of his responsibilities… it was one more obstacle to overcome in his 'friendly' pursuits.

With the swords on his back he turned to look at the young man and assure him, "You'll be safe inside, Dandelion."

The young man was charming and full of young, boyish, mischievous energy. But he was confident that he could put those thoughts aside, not read into the playful flirting, and focus on the contract. So long as he could run away to the shoreline whenever Dandelion started to be charming, doing silly things like calling the witcher attractive or trying to get to know him.

The now fully armed witcher went to the opening of the alley between the servant apartments and the garden wall, but Dandelion and his horse had the exit blocked.

The younger man didn't feel like moving out of the way and leaving. He wasn't done with Geralt yet. Far from it.

Witchers had a tendency to spook most animals, meaning Geralt would not risk pushing past the horse to be on his way. He wouldn't actually push the young nobleman out of his way either. But he did step in close. Very close. He was expecting Dandelion to back up and move along with his horse.

One moment Julian was trying to see how long he could get away with gazing at 'the view' and in the next moment 'the view' was very much in his face. He was left frozen, but luckily not speechless, "When you're done, let me make your stay more comfortable. It is my obligation as your host to be sure your every need is met." Dandelion suggested.

"No word play. Come out with it." Geralt ordered. He didn't look confused, his expression said very clearly they both knew what idea Julian was toying with.

"Climb into my bed tonight." The poet requested, dawning a charming smile that challenged Geralt's resolve.

"I've learned something important on the path. People who ask a witcher to join them in bed don't know what they are asking for." Geralt stated seriously. "I'll do a great favour for you and not accept your offer."

"Do what you must," Dandelion swallowed sharply, and stepped aside to make way for the witcher. He was not clumsy about it, thank Gods, but he could feel his pulse jump just from their proximity. "But don't be a stranger, Geralt." Afterall, he didn't plan to be.


	2. You Can't Threaten ME With a Good Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt starts to lose his resolve and comes very close to giving in to exactly what Dandelion is after. The warnings are given, but if anything they just make Dandelion all the more desperate.

Geralt explored different rooms of the spartan servants' quarters in the ample free time between hunts.

There were so many empty rooms the apartments felt abandoned on most evenings. There were a few others working but Geralt quickly noticed they were all either too old and grim or too young for Dandelion to pursue.

Geralt chuckled with amusement when he realized how serious Viscount Pankratz was about keeping his son in line. But the amusement turned out to be at his own expense.

Against all reason, instead of considering himself out-witted and remaining celibate, Dandelion focused all of his flirtatious energy on the witcher.

Geralt couldn't understand what Dandelion expected to get out of the interactions, but he found he didn't mind them so much. The young nobleman was charming and made excellent company. He had an effortless quality that put Geralt at ease. And when Dandelion made his attentions more directly flirtatious Geralt could always escape back to the hunt.

And the hunt was going well, very well. He had gone down to the shore before dawn, when the cool air and fog cover encouraged more vodnik to surface. By the time the sun was up and the fog burned away Geralt had faced off against 7 vodnik. He added the heads to the pile in the game shed and moved along to the servants quarters.

He had found a well furnished bathing room the previous day and he was eager to treat himself to a relaxing soak in hot water.

With so few people staffing the estate, Geralt didn't need to worry about interrupting, or being interrupted by anyone. It was a rare luxury to let himself truly relax and he was determined to not get out of the bath until he must.

He had just brought the water up to a pleasant steamy heat using igni, and slipped below the surface when he heard soft footsteps in the hall.

His brow furrowed and he listened closely to identify the footfalls. 

Dandelion's footsteps were soft as they carried him through the servant's quarters. He peeked into every spartan little room lining the hallway, but the man he was after was elusive when he didn't want to be bothered.

Julian's family reunion in the Pankratz manor had not been brief, but it was pleasant and left him in good spirits. Except when the absence of servants became obvious and he knew his father would not let his son chase after the help any longer.

He was stupefied by the lengths to which he went to ensure his good behavior stuck. Julian would never have believed his father could be as clever about keeping people out of his bed as he himself was clever about getting people into his bed. Alas, most of the staff was gone, which left many rooms empty and the entire estate less lively. Usually there was a consistent stream of chatter throughout the halls, with plenty of pretty women and handsome men to look at, speak with, and happily hold the attention of. 

He had been looking forward to revisiting some of his habitual interests, but they were no longer around to impress. The cute servant girl who's laughter sounded like wind chimes and musical notes? Her room was empty. And the gardener he liked gazing out at through his window? Replaced with someone old enough to be his grandfather. It looked as if the Viscount Pankratz had been paying careful attention to who he fancied and who fancied his son a little too much.

Julian knew his father must be very proud of himself, but he was determined to have the last laugh himself. Fueled by equal parts spite and genuine attraction, the young man was determined to be ploughed so thoroughly by the witcher that everyone would know it.

But first there was the matter of finding the witcher. "Where is he?" He asked himself as he stood in the doorway of his room.

Geralt huffed quietly, knowing he should have identified the owner of the footsteps simply because no one but Julian would be looking for him. He dropped down in the water creating a quiet splash.

Dandelion wasn't sure if he heard a sound, or if something else caught his attention; but he turned his head and considered the last room: a cozy little bathing room for servants to care for themselves.

He hadn't checked that room yet, and with renewed confidence he approached the door to stand in front of it. Dandelion pressed his cheek to the rough wood of the door, listening hopefully for the man he wanted to find inside.

"What is it, Julian?" He asked in a demanding tone. Then he mentally chastised himself and corrected himself, "Dandelion." The nobleman was boyish and young, especially so to Geralt. Oftentimes the witcher thought of him by the boyish name he had overheard: Julian. But, Julian Alfred Pankratz had introduced himself as Dandelion and Geralt intended to respect it.

Trying to speak through the door would be useless, however. Even if Geralt could hear anything Dandelion said through the door, but he didn't like to shout in reply to be heard through the solid wood between them. So, he called out, "Come in, Dandelion."

This "boy" was quick he to open the door. He'd been impatiently hoping for a moment like this, uninterrupted intimate time with the only eligible bed partner for miles, and the most infamous bed partner that he had ever set his sights on. Handsome might even be an understatement in the young man's mind.

After opening the door enough for him to slip inside comfortably, he nearly fell to the floor, weak at the sight illuminated before him. 

Geralt's pure white hair, let free from it's tie, grazed his strong, prominent shoulders. Scars littered his body, some too small to make out in a dim room, others big enough to see clearly from the doorway.

The witcher had deep claw-marks that gouged the muscles underneath. A bite mark on his shoulder was tinged around each tooth with burn scars. His right nipple was gone, a long vertical gash along his pectoral took its place.

The sight of it all at once made him shudder to imagine what creatures on this forsaken earth could cause such damage. Even so, Dandelion was utterly mesmerised. He could, and would happily stare for hours on end, just to map the miles of defined muscles this man possessed. If only Geralt would remain still and let him do so.

Shutting the door, Dandelion struggled to maintain his usual casual charm, the last thing he wanted was to come off as clumsy in front of a more experienced partner.

"Hello," He hailed and did his damndest to keep his eyes above the water. It was awful how badly he wanted to look down at the parts of Geralt's body soaking in the bath, but he considered it a test of willpower. "I'm glad I found you! You don't have a towel, I see." He rummaged through a cabinet quickly to retrieve a soft folded cloth.

Geralt hummed, acknowledging the towel. "Thank you, Dandelion." It was a kind gesture for a man who was accustomed to dripping dry, or standing in the sunlight if he was very lucky. But it was only an excuse to come see him. Hewas sure of that. "You can bring it to me."

"Of course," Dandelion replied and came to the edge of the tub where he continued to explain himself, "I didn't know if you knew how the servants' apartments were stocked, so I thought I'd come in and make sure you were comfortable. I hope you don't mind." 

Geralt hummed again, "Likely."

Blue eyes widened, appalled, and with an unceremonious choke of his voice he replied a little dumbly, "What do you mean 'likely'? It's the honest truth!"

Geralt smiled dangerously, "Lying to my face? Did you come here to have your rear end thrashed?"

Dandelion choked on a surprised gasp, unable to respond before Geralt was sitting up to grip the front of his tunic and pull him closer. He was pulled off balance and dropped the towel to grip the edge of the tub, unable to resist the strong pull bringing their faces together.

"Look at me, Dandelion" he commanded, "Really, look at me. Take a moment to size me up." Dandelion obeyed at once, pretty blue eyes traveling to great lengths in order to drink in Geralt's naked, wet visage from top to bottom. He didn't care that he was obvious where he let his eyes linger. His eyes pupils are blown wide, not from the dim lighting however. Only from Geralt.

"Ask yourself if you really want a witcher in your bed. I don't come from your world of gold and silk, I come from steel and leather." He warned, not cruelly, but very seriously. He wasn't angry with the young man for his ambitious sexual drive, but he had to protect him from something he would surely regret.

Dandelion held a smile he couldn't hold back any more, as if the witcher were only threatening him with a good time. "Ah," he started off with, a small laugh passing between parted lips. He took a moment to wet them with a peek of his tongue, lean in closer, and reply, "When you put it like that, Geralt, it just makes me want it more."

Geralt hesitated. He didn't expect the grave warning to have the opposite effect. He almost released the young man.

The witcher raised his defined jaw. "Dandelion, you're asking for trouble." Geralt was feeling the swell of excitement and primal urges. If Dandelion succeeded in wearing down the witcher's reservations the poor boy was going to be in a world of trouble.

Geralt was determined to discourage Dandelion, just as Dandelion was determined to wear down the witcher's hard, steely resolve. Geralt was used to being given a wide birth, and the young nobleman was used to being given what he wanted.

"Trouble? Where?" The young man replied, brazen and eyes twinkling. Geralt released him and he stumbled back, assuring, "I don't see anything like that."

Geralt stood up, immediately filling the space that Dandelion left behind when he moved back.

He was dripping wet, and steam was lifting from him where the hot water met cool air and immediately evaporated. He stepped out of the bath, towards Dandelion, answering him as he did so, "It's me, boy. I'm trouble."

His voice was a little deeper, and his shoulders a little more squared. He didn't need to posture himself to be frightening, he was already large and dangerous enough. But he could straighten up and make sure the smaller man understood what he was getting himself into.

"Have you ever been with a witcher, Dandelion? Have you ever seen one before me?" Geralt waited for the other to answer, but didn't back off. Naked, steaming, covered in deep scars, with gold eyes that cut through the dark, he backed him up into the wall.

The young man released a heavy, wordless breath and struggled to find enough sense to shake his head in reply.

"Didn't think so." Geralt stated. Dandelion fit in the larger man's shadow cast onto the wall, "We're bigger than you'd expect. And stronger too. But it's our stamina that sets us apart from regular men." He put his palm on the wall, above the other's shoulder, and leaned in close, "You don't want a witcher in your bed, Dandelion. But if you keep asking for it, that's what you're going to get."

Geralt is unapologetic in the way he takes up both their respective spaces. It isn't just admirable, it's a little maddening in how he likes it. Suddenly, the neat and noble Julian found himself relatively cornered between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go. He's drowning in the witcher's darkening shadow, and by the thick bobbing of his own Adam's apple, he's more than keen for what could transpire in a matter of seconds.

And Dandelion had many choices, he knew that. He may be young, and perhaps he was being especially heedless to Geralt's wise warning to not jump into the deep end head first, but he can't find it in his spirit to listen any more than he can handle or care to. He knows what he wants, and apparently the poor witcher needs to be told that explicitly. Fair enough.

"If all Witchers came and looked like you, Geralt, you'd have serious competition. I wouldn't know what to do with myself." Dandelion stated, as friendly and firm as he was flirtatious. He had been needlessly clutching his baldric tight in his fist, but now let his fingers graze Geralt's hip. "But I certainly know what I want to do to you."

The gentle grazing touch affected Geralt like an electric shock. The warmth of the skin on his was stimulating in a way the heat of a bath could never copy. It had been months since Geralt had been touched by another person on his naked flesh. It had been even longer since the last time he'd been touched without paying first.

The witcher captured Dandelion's wrist in his hand and pinned it to the wall above his head, slamming it hard enough to make the wooden boards creak. "Julian!" He groaned, though it came out like a growl.

He stared into Dandelion's blue eyes sternly, feeling nothing but warmth and excitement from the other and his self control lapsed. His free hand grabbed where the boy's throat met his jawline and lifted his chin up. His lips descended on the other's, and he kissed him passionately but hard. The stubble on his chin scratched Dandelion's, and his teeth grazed his lip, not enough to cut the skin but enough to bruise him.

Dandelion squeezed his trapped wrist in the witcher's hand to test the strength of his hold, and upon discovering how there's no budge, no give, he let out a breathy sigh. He uses his free hand to further touch the naked skin in front of him, grazing Geralt's prominent chest just to grip onto his shoulder and pull him closer.

The witcher flexed his grip around the thin wrist, not to punish or hurt him, but to force Dandelion's testing muscles to yield to him and submit. Geralt felt the end of a finger disappear over the deadened nerves of a scar from a cockatrice. He tightened his grip on Dandelion's jaw and the smaller fingers resting below the jaw on his neck pressed into his skin. He could feel the young man's pounding heart beat, racing, and rushing blood to his head. 

Geralt was sure the other would be finding himself dizzy, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Not until he felt a pinch of Dandelion's lip between his teeth and a small flinch that was like a deep shudder to his enhanced senses. The next second he smelled and tasted blood.

Geralt disengaged and stepped back before the next second fully passed. He looked over the young man, still up against the wall, in a very different light as he crashed down from his brief high. His pupils pinned immediately into thin, keenly aware slits.

Dandelion was a boy, Geralt reminded himself, a young man who couldn't have more than two decades behind him. Geralt had paid sex workers with more years of experience handling men than Dandelion had even been alive. And Dandelion was the son of a viscount; with a penchant for seducing the servants and guards. Even his roughest partner certainly took great care to put Dandelion's pleasure first and entertain whatever fantasies the boy cared to explore.

That was something Geralt couldn't do. Once he gave in to his sexual urges, a deeply suppressed primal part of himself would emerge and he would become singularly focused on fucking Dandelion and cumming hard inside him.

Geralt wiped at his bottom lip with his thumb to clean away the blood, but it didn't do any good. The taste stayed on his tongue and clouded his senses. 

He gripped Dandelion again, this time the back of his neck, and he pulled him away from the wall to the door as he chastised him, "I hope you're pleased with yourself. You will probably have a few bruises, and if nothing else a bloody lip for your trouble. You're lucky that's the worst of it."

Geralt opened the door and stopped pushing Dandelion to make sure he had his attention as he warned him, "If you seek me out again like this you're going to learn why they call me a monster. A little bit of blood isn't going to stop me."

Although that should be enough of a warning, Geralt drove the message home with a hard smack from his open hand on Dandelion's bottom. The suddenness and the force of it pushed the young man through the door, and Geralt closed and locked it behind him.

"Geralt!" Dandelion shouted in confusion and frustration, but it was useless. He heard the door lock, so that was the last word on the matter.

He was left alone, in an empty hall, with nothing but his urge to persuade Geralt into letting him inside and talk 'the matter' over until they both saw it his way.

It would be better than going back to the main house with nothing to show for his efforts. Nothing, that is, besides the throb in his bit bottom lip and the faint sting of Geralt's palm on his bottom. He knows he'll remember both as he touches himself in bed at night, but it will do little to slake his thirst for more.

There was no question of whether or not he would seek Geralt out again. The heated warning uttered by kiss-swollen lips did anything but deter him; and the witcher had essentially given his word that next time he would not stop.

Dandelion was counting on that.


	3. Get Fucked or Die Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier uses a public performance of a song to seduce Geralt.   
> Song adapted from: The Bonnie Black Hare by Fairport Convention

The final day of the witcher's contract finally arrived, and with it the soiree Viscount Pankratz hired him for.

The master of the house was very pleased with himself to see that his little plan to keep his son out of the servants' rooms (and beds) had worked. Although he could not keep track of Julian every moment of the day and night he could sense the young man's frustration mounting. It could only mean that Julian was being left unaccompanied to bed, and hopefully meant he was learning some self-discipline as well. The senior viscount could only hope.

He peered through a window to find the witcher already waiting by the edge of the water, meditating as he waited to dispatch any beasts that emerged from the water. As he watched him he considered, given this success, he might hire the witcher every year, if it kept Julian in line.

Geralt stayed by the edge of the water as often as he could. He found it to be increasingly difficult to resist Dandelion after he had the man on his lips.

He never managed to get the taste of the man off his tongue. With the sweet blend of rich tea and the intense metallic taste from only a drop of blood he found himself constantly resisting the urge to seek Dandelion out and finish what they started.

A part of him dared Dandelion to come to him again with that flirtatious charm and naive bravery. Geralt could consider himself truly justified in giving the young man exactly what he warned he would get.

A more respectable part of the witcher clutched desperately to the remains of his self-control. He reminded himself that even people who wanted a witcher in their bed did not know what they were asking for. 

The start of the soiree was just around the corner, and anticipation was thrumming in Julian's veins. He had plans for entertainment, and waiting for the seconds to tick by- for the noble men and women to arrive in droves- as the evening festivities approached was causing him immense excitement for all the right reasons.

His blood had been simmering since that night in the servant's quarters, where Geralt did the unthinkable and shut the door on him.

Licking his bottom lip, he winced at its tenderness where Geralt's teeth broke skin and made it bleed. No one had ever done that to him before. In fact, all his lovers had been, to some degree, gentle and coy with him. If they left any marks, they were kept to discreet places that were easy to hide (or very difficult to casually display). 

Geralt was different and he liked it. The witcher could not be like his other lovers even if he tried, and thankfully it didn't seem that the witcher even wanted to try. His encounters with Geralt drove him to the point of invasive inspiration and soon he was left scribbling away his ideas for a new song; one that would spur a crowd and hopefully his white wolf also.

Dandelion was pleased with himself and considered his current masterpiece to be his best work yet. And it had to be, if he wanted to woo his elusive almost lover right into his lap.

Julian's mother came to collect him, instead of the lovely young chambermaid who usually handled those responsibilities. The reminder of the slight caused Dandelion to press his pen to his paper more firmly and finish off his notes with a flourish. 

With his lute in hand, Dandelion came down from his room on time for once, looking quite handsome. His father, the viscount, cupped his son's face as he greeted him. "The guests have arrived. Everyone is down in the lakeshore garden, waiting for you, the guest of honour." There was something in the older man's eye that spoke of mischief, not that a proper gentleman like himself would engage in anything unsavoury. But it made Dandelion wonder what else his father could possibly plan to spoil things for him.

As they went to the doors, he noticed the lute on Dandelion's back. He raised a brow, "Are you playing for our guests tonight?"

His mother smiled proudly, "He's been working on something. I've heard the chords and it is charming. They'll all love his variety of talents."

"Ah, wonderful! We have people to impress tonight and a good song ought to do it. Come along then." The viscount Pankratz opened the grand doors of his home leading down the path to their guests.

The soiree was lovely. Little candles hanging from strings swung gently in the breeze, like magic in the air. The setting sun sparkled on the brilliantly blue lake with such intensity that glassware and jewelry sparkled as well. The guests circulated slowly through the paved garden, in a slow dance-like path of greeting one another and exchanging formalities.

Only one person stood apart. The witcher, clad in his black leather armour, guarding the edge of the water, speaking to no one, and watching Dandelion with an unfaltering gaze.

Eventually the other guests noticed their hosts approaching and welcomed them warmly with smiles and soft applause. The Viscount presented his son proudly as he spoke to his audience, "We thank you for joining us in celebrating the height of the Spring season, and of course the birthday of my dear boy, Julian."

Everyone clapped, except Geralt who's lips twisted into a wry smile. Dandelion's father raised a glass and began, "If I may sing praises of my son, not in song of course, I'd like to make a toast..."

Geralt's smile grew wider as the man drawled on through a formal speech. Although anyone could see the guest of honour and the witcher were perfect opposites, their expressions matched. Reluctant participants of pomp and circumstance, in a rush to get through it all and be done with it.

Finally the father's toast concluded, "And so, it should be of no surprise at all that this soiree serves the additional purpose of an engagement party!" 

Julian's breath stopped short and his expression froze. Geralt's reactions were usually buried deeply, but even so he nearly gasped loudly enough to be heard. He was rarely included in any real planning, but he was rarely surprised. The viscount had truly surprised him.

Suddenly the viscount's insistence on his son's honour and celibacy made great sense.

"Julian, let me introduce you to the Marchioness Theophania of Verene." The attention of the crowd turned to the lady of honour now. She was close to Dandelion in age, perhaps a little older, but not as handsome as the singer. She was more wealthy, given her title and her dress... And she was apparently quite pleased to be betrothed to him. She smiled graciously and curtsied as though she was accepting a grand prize that she won. No one could fault her for her excitement, knowing she would have the poet completely to herself.

Julian was unable to react yet, still processing what his father had done. He looked like a man staring down the gallows and reflecting on a life ending at the young age of 20.

There were a dozen ways he saw himself reacting to this news. The options he most liked would not unfold in his favour. He had his own good name and the reputation of his family to think of. So, he swallowed down the worst of his feelings and forced the corners of his mouth to mimic a believably sincere smile for his father and newly betrothed.

Only Geralt could see the force; the hidden disappointment and fury behind his eyes. The corner of the witcher's lip turned up. The decision of whether or not to take one another to bed might be out of their hands, but he was all the more eager to see what the other would do.

Without keeping anyone waiting, Julian fully turned to the Marchioness and addressed her first. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, miss Theophania. You look darling." It was short, and sweet, and not the least bit sincere but she was no less flattered to be noticed by her charming husband-to-be. 

"The pleasure is all mine," she smiled, and locked eyes with him. The flecks of almost gold in her brown eyes remind him of how much more striking a certain witcher's were. "I've heard wonderful things about you, Master Julian. Your father sings praises of you, and loves to speak of your skills and stories. Not to mention, you're far more handsome than your portrait alludes to. I look forward to having many interesting conversations with you in the future." 

"I'm flattered," Julian assured, knowing how charming he could be. He turned to his father, "To think that I'm so highly thought of. And in light of receiving such sudden and remarkable news, I really think my contribution to this celebration will be enjoyed by everyone."

Julian's mother beamed and agreed, "Oh yes! You wrote a song! I was so excited by the engagement it entirely escaped my mind."

His father's expression was relaxed. Any nervousness regarding how his son might rebel left him.

Marchioness Theophania smiled excitedly and looked to the others as if she was about to open a present. "Oh yes, please play for us, would you? Your father told me how whenever you are home you fill the house with the most thrilling music."

Julian smiled pleasantly. He might have appreciated her company if he hadn't found himself in a trap. As sweet and flirtatious as Theophania could have been he knows he must bed the witcher. It's tonight, or never. 

Geralt glanced out at the lake once more to be sure of his own responsibilities before he let himself be distracted by the soiree. He was not often so entertained by the personal affairs of his clients, but he told himself this situation was unique.

"Absolutely," Julian stated, and tuned his lute for the delighted Marchioness. "I brought this for the occasion." It was a beautiful instrument; one he took great care in maintaining its shine, its beauty, and its design to make music with. It was not cheap or worn down by any means and though it didn't look like it, it was a well loved possession.

Stepping forward, he surveyed the crowd and he respectfully but pointedly ignored his parents' reverent gazes, knowing they must be so pleased with themselves and their 'victory'. It's not hard to find Geralt's tall and quietly confident figure among the plain and pretty faces his eyes rove past. Bur Julian was surprised, then encouraged to find Geralt already watching him. 

"To the ladies and gentlemen of the evening, it would be an honor to sing for all of you tonight." The young nobleman revealed a smile- one easily accusable of being sneaky- but at least it's real, and true. "Especially since I've found myself more inspired than usual the past couple of days. I suppose you could say that being surrounded by nature, and being home again, is what drove me to create what I've titled "The Fearsome White Wolf".

An eye-catching title, if he says so himself. Geralt raised a brow when he heard the title. He didn't consider for even a moment that it was only a coincidence. This was a secret message, if it could even qualify as a secret. None of the guests looked to each other or gave any indication that the were alerted to the man's ulterior motives.

Finally, his parents and the Marchioness seated themselves, and the young bard began playing. Nimble fingers plucked away at the lute's strings and very steadily a catchy tune began to fill the cool air. 

" _ On the 14th of May, at the dawn of the day _

_ With my bow on my shoulder to the woods I did stray _

_ In search of some game, good fun for myself _

_ To seek for a shot at the fearsome white wolf _

_ I met a young girl there with her face as a rose _

_ And her hair was as fair as the lily that grows _

_ I says, my fair maid, why ramble you so _

_ Can you tell me which way the white wolf did go? _

_ The answer she gave me, O, the answer was no! _

_ But under my cloak they say it do go _

_ And if you'll not deceive me, I vow to myself _

_ We'll both go together to hunt the fearsome white wolf _

_ I laid this girl down with her face to the sky _

_ I took out my arrow, my bow likewise _

_ Saying, wrap your legs round me, dig in with your heels _

_ For the closer we get, O, the better it feels _

_ The birds, they were singing in the bushes and trees _

_ And the song that they sang was, she's easy to please _

_ I felt her heart quiver and I knew what I'd done _

_ Says I, have you had enough of this old sporting fun? _

_ The answer she gave me, O, the answer was nay _

_ It's not often young sportsmen like you come this way _

_ And if your aim is good and strong is your pull _

_ Why don't you keep firing at the fearsome white wolf _

_ Oh, my arrows are gone, and my energy's spent _

_ And my bow can't fire, yet I'm quite content _

_ But I'll be back in the morning, and if you are still here _

_ We'll both go together to hunt, my dear" _

He gave his attention as the song played and a smirk tugged at his lips. He could forgive the bard for taking some artistic license in order to perform a song detailing his specific interest in pursuing "the White Wolf", in front of his betrothed no less. But Geralt wasn't going to let Dandelion think he would be on his back for the other, or that he would be finished before the other.

The guests all clapped and commented on the performance. The Marchioness made a show of being scandalized by the sexual nature of the song, but her smile proved how excited she was. But Dandelion's true audience, Geralt, met his eyes and gave a slow deliberate nod.

The witcher stood up and walked along the outside of the gathering. No one else noticed or paid any attention to him as he walked by, too involved in their own affairs to notice someone hired to work there.

Geralt walked slowly, patiently, pacing his steps deliberately so that his departure would not be seen as a retreat. He walked to the apartments and knew they were empty without needing to listen for others. The few members of staff still working would be busy with the event, granting him his preferred privacy. He stopped by the apartment doors briefly to listen anyway, smiling when he heard foot steps coming up the path from behind him.

Geralt went to his room and left the door open as he went to sit down on the bed and wait with a watchful eye on the door.

It goes to show that when Julian wants to be the perfect little actor, he can be. The soiree was in full swing, and therefore completely distractible now that the people were properly enlivened by his bawdy tune. The Marchioness would be busy mingling with the other attendees, as they congratulated her on her engagement and eventual marriage to the Viscount's one and only son, but above all, she would be busy with his parents as they revealed this and that about him to miss Theophania. She'll be excited, no doubt, until she finds out that he has no intention of following through with his parents' terms and conditions come morning. 

Geralt's slow departure from the party was a clear invitation. He'd won him over, and all it took was a public declaration. Once he saw his chance to flee the area without being seen to find and follow Geralt, he took it. It was about time the witcher finally fell for his charm! 

Despite that, he followed him far away from the gathering and into the quiet apartments with the smallest shred of caution for being caught. It was dimmer lighting, and the floorboards creaking beneath his weight was far too loud for his liking. 

Hand on the doorknob, he knew as soon as he breathed in a sigh and called out the witcher's name that he was sealing his own fate. 

"Geralt?"

The witcher heard the young nobleman before he saw him step into the doorway. He looked over every detail of him again: the cracks of Dandelion's bottom lip were stained red from a touch of wine, not enough to smell on his breath or effect his judgement. The top buttons of his baldric were undone, letting the cool night air touch his neck, but he wasn't chilled, perhaps he was even hot with excitement. His hands twitched at his sides, nervous, but not nervous enough for a young man standing in the doorway of the white wolf's bedroom.

Geralt almost considered warning Dandelion again. But no, he had warned him enough times. Dandelion knew what he was looking for coming here.

The witcher snapped his fingers, causing the candle wick to catch, illuminating the room in warm, but dim light. The night shine in his wolfish eyes reflected the fire, adding to the golden intensity of gaze.

"Dandelion." He replied. "You know what is going to happen when you come in here." He almost suggested IF the boy came in, but it was no longer a matter of if. He could see the resolve in those determined blue eyes. It was always only a matter of when Dandelion found himself under Geralt.

Julian's shoulders stiffened at being called, but he was more than pleased to hear Geralt addressing him by his preferred name. When it rolled off the witcher's tongue, it made him want to come closer. And now that he was standing here, in the middle of the witcher's doorway, there was no way he was turning tail. 

"I do," The young bard replied, his smile reminiscent of a cheshire cat. "And that's why I intend on staying."

Geralt stood up and unlatched the buckle on his chest, "Close the door. And take off your clothes..." He smiled and his eyes caught the light of the fire again, "Or I'll tear them off you."


	4. Dick Hard, Head Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian finally gets what he's asked for and learns that Geralt was not threatening him, he was warning him.

Julian almost slammed the door shut in his enthusiasm, but prevented himself from doing so at the last second. It closed, much like the lock on the door, with a soft click. Then, he turned around and swallowed at the sight of Geralt.    
  


Geralt showed patience with his own leather armour, if only because he couldn't tear it apart any better than monsters could. It came apart and was placed on a stool, piece by piece, revealing the flesh underneath. The witcher's armour looked pristine next to his battle-ravaged skin, and next to Geralt, Dandelion's skin would look baby soft. The dancing candlelight gave every terrible scar its own shadow, hinting what it would be like to touch them.   
  


Dandelion let out a little sigh and cracked another smile. His hands were steadily working on the buttons of his doublet, revealing smooth, unmarred skin as it slipped down and off his shoulders. "You look impossibly better without clothes."    
  


"You don't need to flatter me. I've already decided what I'm going to do with you." He gripped the younger man by the front of his silky tunic and pulled him forward then immediately lifted the material up over his head. He paid no attention to the sound of threads ripping as he handled both the man and his clothing roughly. He looked down over Dandelion's body appreciatively, letting his hands settle on his hips, his thumbs tracing the dip of muscle leading down to his groin. With an approving humm he moved the nobleman to the bed and pushed him down onto the mattress. He didn't bother apologizing for the quality of the bed, which was likely much lower than whatever he slept on in the main house. If Dandelion prowled this hall for beds to climb into as often as his father seemed to think, he would be familiar with their quality already. He'd withstand almost anything for a good time.   
  


Geralt knelt down between his legs by the side of the bed and dragged a heavy wooden chest from underneath it. The wooden chest was filled with differently sized and shaped glass bottles, all nestled carefully into soft straw. Geralt smiled up at Dandelion and produced a bottle with a viscous glistening liquid. Julian’s legs were splayed open, showing how relaxed and suggestible he is. His eyes, which freely roamed over every dip and crevice of muscle and scar on Geralt's body, focused on the bottle curiously. "What kind of concoction is that?" He eyed the wooden chest with a curious and at most a cursory glance. He'd reach for one to look at and properly examine, but he knew better than to touch.

"This must be your first time seeing a witcher's collection." He tipped the bottle, pouring the liquid across his fingertips and smearing it with his thumb. "Once I get into this bed, you're not leaving until morning… this will help." He stroked the slick fingers along the length of his hardening cock, easing his foreskin back to expose the pink head.   
  


"How thoughtful. What happened to 'If you seek me out again like this, I'm not going to stop because of a little blood’?" Julian recalls playfully, deepening his voice to mimic a certain witcher. Geralt smiled wolfishly and set the bottle aside and climbed into the bed, into Julian's personal space. The witcher was a large man. This wasn't the first time he had been close to Geralt, but it was the first time with his legs spread for him. Geralt grabbed one of Julian's thighs to spread him further and settle in close to him on the bed. He grazed his palm down Dandelion's thighs and pressed his slick middle finger and ring finger into Julian's body. 

  
Dandelion tensed at the first sign of Geralt's thick fingers between his legs, and his next words were cut off in the end by a hiccup in speech. More blood rushed to his cock. "Those were your words, from the other night, weren't they? Rather ominous ones." 

  
"Not enough to scare you away." Geralt pointed out. It was charming to see Julian play at being a nervous virgin when they both knew he was nothing of the sort. He didn't try to assure the other, not now after he'd warned away Julian for days. The soft boy knew what he'd come here for.   
  


The witcher pumped his curled fingers into the younger man's body, watching every little reaction in him. He could see why Julian was popular with his lovers. He was full of sexual encouragement in even the most minute details, small and uncontrollable praises of every action done to him. Geralt strained to take in everything: the twitch of his cock when his prostate was stroked, the raise of goose bumps when bed sheets stroked his flesh, the way his lips moistened briefly under each deep breath from his rising chest. Julian was impossibly erotic. Irresistible. Geralt opened his mouth slightly to breathe in and taste the scent of him. His heavy cock twitched with need and Geralt withdrew his fingers, unable to resist another moment.

"I won't  _ try  _ to hurt you, but I won't hold back either." He gripped the narrow hips in front of him in a hold that wouldn't let him go anywhere. 

"I'm not scared." Dandelion shoots back. He was more than happy to sink further into the bedding and admire Geralt from below. He could drink this view in for a while, just watching the way a few strands of white hair had fallen wayside to the witcher's focused face. Without a second thought his right hand went to wrap around his own cock, smearing the pre-cum that collected at the tip to coat the head in order to keep the pleasure building.    
  


The witcher watched Julian's nimble hand at work. As the blunt cock head pressed to his entrance and his muscles tensed against him, Julian's hand sped up almost imperceptibly. The extra touch of pleasure let him relax, bit by bit, until the witcher's full length was inside him.   
  
A silent curse slipped past Dandelion's bitten lips, one that fell short of another moan. Geralt was already more than he bargained for in size alone, but he was inexplicably confident he could handle himself. He's had all sorts of lovers with quite the voracious appetite. Geralt should be no different, deep down.    
  


Geralt ground the base of his cock against Julian's body, savouring being sheathed fully inside him. Then his hand closed around the small wrist in front of him. "That's enough." He brought Julian's hand up and pinned it to the bed above his head. "You're going to have a hard time lasting until I'm done with you. Better to be patient." Geralt didn't want to give the younger man the chance to finish himself off and think they were done. He rolled his hips into the young man easily, pumping in and out without resistance. He didn't need to pound a rhythm into Dandelion until their bodies could move together in unison. The force of his body moved the younger man with him, making their bodies fit together, pulling the other in line immediately to follow his lead. 

The witcher surprised him with how easily his fingers wrapped around a single wrist. He tugs, just to see if it'll hold him. "If I can't touch myself, I'll touch you." 

Geralt huffed quietly, almost a chuckle. The young man's confidence had a boyish charm that was more attractive than he wanted to admit. He tried to push the thought from his mind as he continued to drive his length into the pliant form beneath him. Distracted by the thoughts, he didn't notice how his grip began to tighten on the delicate wrist and lean hip he latched onto. The barest grind of bones beneath his palm brought him back and he consciously forced himself to ease his hold slightly. It had been too long since he'd last fucked, or since he felt the drive to pin someone down and take them. He chastised himself, knowing he ought have hired a sex worker, someone with a few decades of experience, who could handle it as the human in him slowly lost control to the primal instincts that would seek to fuck the soft body below him as deeply and thoroughly as possible. 

Dandelion’s soft fingertips brushed past some of the loose, long strands of white hair to find purchase around Geralt's neck and pull him close. His touch was firm at first, even affectionate in the way that the young man had always been a lover at heart. "Geralt," His voice rises on a particularly hard thrust, and his mouth opens as Geralt grinds his hips into him. Having his legs spread left him at Geralt's mercy, as well as the advantage of driving into him with a set of deep, strong thrusts, and slowly but surely jostling him without moving him up the bed.

Despite all of his warnings, and now making those warnings come true, the young man wanted it, he wanted more. Geralt gladly gave it to him, riding Julian fast and hard until he was on the edge of climax. Geralt growled against Julian's neck before jerking back. His hand moved quickly and created the glowing cipher of  _ Quinn  _ in its wake. A golden light washed over Julian's naked body seconds before Geralt descended.

His mouth closed around the junction of Julian's neck and shoulder, his teeth sinking into the delicate skin. The strength of his bite was apparent, but the sign for Quinn protected Dandelion from feeling anything more than a squeeze. Geralt snarled against the magical shield, breathing in the smell of flowers as he spilled his seed deep into Dandelion's body. 

Julian couldn't contain himself, crying out another string of unholy curses as his hips buckled underneath Geralt. From the sheer strength of the witcher's pistoning hips to the sharp teeth sinking into his neck, he was not shy in showing the witcher how much he was enjoying himself, or how eager he was to take everything the other man had to give him. 

"Fuck, Geralt." The young bard exclaims, his voice breathless. Feeling nothing but the pleasing pressure and squeeze of being bitten, he shakes, voice a mere tremble, as his nerves come alight. "I can’t believe you’d deny me still. Let me finish with you.” His own cock, which lays trapped and neglected between their bodies, leaked as Geralt buries himself inside his heat and rides out the high from his orgasm. It's instinct at this point to reach down and touch himself, and when he does, it adds to the pleasure of squeezing around the length inside him. He wants to savor this, but he's so close to the edge it wouldn't take much to get him off, and all he can think of is how good it would feel to tip over.    
  
He growled softly, "We aren't done yet, Dandelion." He closed a strong hand around his wrist, stopping him from pleasuring himself, "Not yet." He moved the nimble hands out of the way and then grabbed his hips to turn him over before guiding Dandelion's hands behind him and crossed them over one another, holding them tightly in one hand and pressing them to the base of his spine. His other hand squeezed the curve of his arse lewdly before spreading it to expose him. He lined up the tip of his shaft to the pucker leaking his previously spent seed and started to push in, slowly filling him again.    
  


It was a strange feeling. Having a partner deny him getting off, but Geralt telling him ‘no’ had his cock twitching and heart racing all the same. This did nothing, however, to prevent him from whining."Won't you have a little mercy on me?" the bard pouts as Geralt repositions him to his liking. All he can do to look at Geralt is to turn and crane his head back. "Please, Geralt. I wrote a song for you. What else could you desire?"    
  


Geralt smirked and patted his open palm against the side of Julian's upturned rear. "Just you. Wrapped around my cock." With one hand still holding his lean wrists, his other hand buried in his hair and pulled briefly to arch his spine like a bow. Geralt's hips started to buck against Julian's again, faster than he had started before, immediately resuming his preferred pace, fully recovered from his climax. He released his hold of Julian's hair and settled his palm at the base of his neck pinning him in place to receive his full length with every thrust. "But that is why you came here tonight, isn't it?" He growled from deep in his chest.    
  


"Geralt, you're not being fair. I'm so hard, I’ve been begging for you for days," Julian replies, his voice gentle, but thick with appeal. Geralt's words were true enough, and they affected him greatly, if the desperate hitch in his hips were any indication of that. With one side of his face pressed firmly into the sheets, Julian takes it all over again. He can barely keep his sentence together the moment the witcher starts, but doesn't stop. "I’ll do whatever you tell me to do, just touch me, please." 

Geralt squeezed Julian's neck, pressing his fingertips into the skin to feel his heart beat. Compared to the witcher, his heart felt like that of a little bird, vibrating beneath his surface. He snapped his hips hard against the other's hips, chasing after his second climax with little concern for the other's yet. "I don’t need your obedience to have you how I want you. Try again." 

  
The steady ache in his gut felt like a fire that was threatening to overwhelm him the longer he went without, and so when Geralt asks Julian to try again, he receives another willful plea and a tug of his wrists. "I can't take it, Geralt. It feels too good, you feel too good, and I--" the young bard stutters, bucking his hips forward and then back again for friction he craved but didn't have. The slow grind to Geralt's pace let him know it was a futile tease. "--I have to cum, please, otherwise I'll die!"   
  
Geralt let the gentle-born man resist him. He watched small pearls of sweat appear on his shoulders and let the keen whimpers satisfy a deeply primal part of the witcher.

An underlying human part of his consciousness knew the boy was begging. But he didn't try to process the words any more. He had warned Dandelion. Geralt wasn't able to control the primal urges that fueled his mutated body any more than a common man could control a wild monster. Geralt pressed down onto Julian's body, pressing his shoulders to the bed and resting his weight on the boy's hips as he ploughed him faster, growling and panting and then finally groaning as his cock throbbed and spilled inside Dandelion's passage again.

Sweat and heat hung low in the surrounding air, coating his hairline and beading along the dip in his back. Julian had underestimated just how much self control Geralt had been exhibiting in the beginning, and how he was losing it all. He couldn't take anymore, not like this. Julian's whole body shakes under the onslaught of the witcher's brutal pace, his hands forming tight fists that refuse to loosen as his arse is used. "Geralt," the poor boy moans, eyes searching for the other. He ruts uselessly in the air, some cum trickling down his thigh, as his poor cock begs for release. "You're as handsome as they come, but oh Gods, are you cruel."   
  


Geralt chuckled and patted the young man's rear again as if to comfort him, "It's an act of mercy. You'll see that before we're done tonight." The witcher eased out of Dandelion's trembling body again and ran his hand along the length of his cock, wiping away the generous layers of slick he'd used. With his cock still hard, but wiped dry, he gripped Dandelion's lean hips and rolled to the bed, maneuvering the other on top of him.

Geralt laid out flat on the bed, with Dandelion positioned on top of him so that his mouth was above the witcher's cock. "Here is your chance to earn what you’re after." Geralt's hand stretched down to grip Dandelion's hair and push him towards the head of his cock.

Julian couldn't stand it. Although Geralt meant to be comforting, the witcher's strong, firm hands on his body had him trembling with another layer of want. After surviving two rounds of being ravaged and deprived of his rights for sweet release, he was ready and willing to prove how deserving he was, all while resisting the urge of thrusting wildly into the white wolf’s face. He wasted no time in wrapping his lips around it and sinking down. 

Geralt stroked along the inside of Dandelion’s legs, smearing the seed over his hole then pushing his thumb inside of him to plug the seed within him and move his hips; presenting himself with the best view of the twitching and needy cock above. Dandelion replied with muffled moans and tiny rolls of his hips as the witcher pushed his seed back into his needy and sensitive hole. 

Geralt rested his heavy hand on Julian's head, not to push him onto the length of his cock but to encourage him. He watched the man's heavy cock leaking, appreciating every detail anew and still refusing to touch it. Instead, he turned his head to the man's thigh and sank his teeth into the soft flesh, trusting  _ Quinn _ to protect him from the worst of the damage he could cause. The spell would protect him from being bit through and bleeding, but he would bruise. Julian whined, thighs shaking as he almost gagged around Geralt's length. 

It didn't stop the young man though. If anything, it caused his back to dip from the sensation, encouraged by the hand in his hair to take another inch, only pulling back when the tip nudges the back of his throat.

The bite was hard enough to give Julian a sudden but brief cold sweat. The taste of it on his tongue pushed him over the edge and he gripped Dandelion's hair tighter and spilled across his tongue. Dandelion didn’t have time to withdraw, not that he had intended to. Not when he was neck deep in fantasies about whether the witcher tasted as good as he looked. Instead, he swallowed what he could catch, but some of it escaped. Geralt released his bruising bite to command, "Don't stop!"

Julian whined throatily as he swallowed Geralt’s length, wordlessly pleaing for his own attention and then suddenly receiving it. His chest heaves when his cock is welcomed into the witcher's warm, wet mouth. Julian went from gripping the sheets to gripping the witcher's naked leg as he shook. 

Julian had wanted this, every part of this, this whole experience, and after dreaming of this for so long he was hardly able to savour the moment before he was spilling his own seed. It was a relief the witcher couldn’t see his face, flushed as it was from embarrassment. Geralt showed no concern when he tested the limits of Julian's human stamina, drawing out his patience without letting him cum, he now showed no mercy after he was spent. He swallowed the seed without unlatching and continued to suck on the cock in his mouth, holding the man's hips to prevent him from getting away as he sucked to force the cock to remain hard and draw out his pleasure to the point of overwhelming intensity.

The pleasure that had been pooling in his gut, hot and lustful, had finally burst. His single minded goal was reached, so when he was spent of all he had and Geralt wouldn't stop sucking on his cock his sensitivity as well as his confusion were mounting on one another. 

Julian raised his head to let go of Geralt's cock in his mouth and babbled a few nonsensical words, pleas to stop, to have mercy, to give him a minute or two to recover if there was a shred of goodness in his heart. "I need- Geralt, please, I've already cum," his tone hitched, hips attempting to get away.

Geralt hummed around the cock, a wordless acknowledgement that reverberated around the length. He heard the words but they didn't really reach him. Not in the state he currently had. He pulled Julian further down onto him, inhaling the scent of his sex as his tongue relentlessly rolled along the length.

Julian let out a sound that could only be described as hopeless. It was useless, trying to resist Geralt. He exhibited far more strength than he had on any given day, good or bad, but that didn't stop him from trying to pry his sensitive, conflicted cock out of the witcher's sweet mouth. He wanted to bury himself and pull away all at once. 

It had turned out to be a great mercy that Geralt forced Dandelion’s patience for so long. The witcher’s strength overpowered his sex-laden limbs, his endurance far outpaced him, and his carnal appetite seemed to be insatiable.

Geralt proceeded to move Dandelion however and wherever he wanted, overwhelming him and denying him at his leisure. He fucked the young man and spilled in him and on him a handful of times in between every climax he allowed his partner. And he was undoubtedly like a wild animal throughout it. He used every inch of the man's body, again and again. He barely spared Dandelion from the worst of his bites and his bruising grip with the use of  _ Quinn _ .

The ambitious young man spent the night begging. Begging to be allowed to cum, then begging to be released and let to recover. Begging for Geralt to fill his mouth and let his backside heal, and begging for him to flip him over and fuck his arse if only so that he could dip his head back onto the pillows and catch his breath. He was worn through and through, fully aware that Geralt and himself were on a ride that they were powerless to resist.

When Dandelion was truly, thoroughly, and fully spent and could only bear to have one more orgasm wrung from his overtaxed body, Geralt used  _ Yrden _ on him to draw out the young man's final moments and allow the witcher to enjoy him for another hour still. It was a small act of mercy, the hour of fierce rutting into Julian’s pliant body and pumping his cock passed as quickly as a quarter hour for the human under the effect of the spell.

"I can't," Dandelion said again, though not very convincingly. His hips, and the slick strokes of his hand around the witcher's length broke rhythm as Geralt easily coaxed the last orgasm out of him. He came in the strong sword-calloused hand with a strangled, helpless cry and collapsed on the bed as if the witcher had stolen his soul with their final round.

As Geralt had said, he wasn't satisfied until the sun had started to rise. He finally lowered himself to the bed beside Dandelion and as he caught his breath and calmed, he realized what he had done to the other. The noble born man was covered in the marks of Geralt's attention. The insides of his thighs were chafed raw from Geralt's beard and marked red from numerous bites. His hips, and sides, and the length of his back were red from Geralt's hard fingers pressing into his flesh and dragging down his body. His bottom was covered in large pink handprints. His legs and arms were left boneless and trembling from exertion. His silky soft hair was teased up in a wild bouffant. One side of his face was rubbed raw and pink from pthe unrelenting friction against the pillow he gripped. His lips were swollen and full from deep bruising kisses and sucking cock. On top of it all was the impossible to conceal expression of a man truly and thoroughly ravaged.

Geralt cursed and sat up, "Dandelion, are you okay? I got excited, days of temptation got the better of me and,  _ fuck _ , I couldn't stop."

The most he was going to receive in reply was a drawn out, satisfied groan from the young man, which expressed his sentiments in the moment perfectly well. Going from handsome and perfectly put together to this debauched mess on a bed wasn't easy. 

Julian saw the expression on the witcher's face. It bled concern. After catching his breath he replied with total honesty and a smile that reached his eyes "I've never felt better." 


	5. So, You Fucked Around and Found Out

It was undeniable that Geralt had kept his word, and better yet, Dandelion had survived it long enough to bask in the after bliss of it. Geralt rested calmly beside Julian, going so far as to rest his eyes beside the other. It was unusual to lower his guard in such a way with someone he barely knew, even if he could assure himself that a naked, worn-out, cock-drunk, boy posed no threat at all to the witcher.

When Julian finally left the servant’s quarters to return to the main house he found the Pankratz manor to be loud and chaotic, the sound of opening and slamming doors was loud enough to be heard from the courtyard as he approached.

From the shouting and wailing he could overheard he sussed out what had happened. Julian's mother had come to his room to wake her son for breakfast when he discovered his bed was perfectly untouched. In a fit of despair over the indecency of taking his betrothed’s maiden head before a proper wedding she had gone at once to the guest of honour's room and walked in on Theophania only to find her perfectly alone and with no clue as to where Julian had spent the night. The two women clutched at one another, going back and forth between damning the young man and worrying while Viscount Pankratz shouted at the servants on duty, demanding that they find his son at once.

The chaos stilled and everyone froze when they saw Julian in the doorway, and the state that he was in. He didn't need to announce what he had done or where he had been for it to be utterly obvious. There was no taming the hair that had been teased up through vigorous fucking. There was no hiding the sex swollen plumpness of his lips. Some of his clothing was torn, but the rest wasn’t buttoned up decently at all. Not to mention he was barefoot, missing buttons, and holding both shoes in one hand while he leant against the doorway for mild support. 

It was plain as day to everyone what Julian had been up to since the evening festivities that took place the night before. There was a wealth of details to drink in. Everyone took in his debauched appearance, and before anyone could get a word in, Julian was the first to speak up, stepping forward with a small limp. 

"You're all up bright and early, aren't you?" He grinned victoriously and asked, “Slept well I hope?”

The older man nearly vibrated with rage before shouting, "Julian! Alfred! Pankratz! Have you NO shame? You are engaged!"

"No!" Theophania objected from the second floor, looking down over the railing at the scene unfolding. "No husband of  _ mine _ would dishonour me in such a way!" She threw her fore arm across her forehead as she nearly fainted into Lady Pankratz’s arms, “The engagement is off!”

"About that..." The young nobleman started as he heard Miss Theophania's protests.

His mother tried to soothe her as she looked down at her son, knowing what he’d done but confused nonetheless, "But how? With whom? Not a single person on staff would have the fortitude-" she gasped.

"The WITCHER!?" His father cried, looking back at Julian with shock. Utter and total shock, but not the slightest bit of disgust. He was quite unhappy to be outwitted and have his plans fall apart and he handled that displeasure with all of the dignity of an over-confident boy beaten at his own game. "THE WITCHER!?" He demanded, louder. 

"The witcher?" Julian replied almost playfully, almost innocently, "Oh- you're referring to Geralt."

Theophania cried out in surprise and clutched his mother who wailed, “A witcher! My poor boy fell prey to that lecherous being!”

Julian cleared his throat, “Hold on now, I’d like it well known that I seduced him as it was no small feat and I’m quite proud of myself.”

Theophania broke away and shouted, "The wedding is off! I rescind any and every offer and I shall never consent to have my family wed to yours!"

The father was still reeling from his son's words, muttering, "Geralt? His name is Geralt? Geralt!?” He looked up to the bannister as Theophania disappeared into her room and slammed the door, dread overwhelming him as he fully realized the fall out. Not only had his plan failed, his plan failed so utterly that this grudge between their families could very well last several generations and possibly prevent any other efforts to marry his son off to respectable ladies of the court. His attention snapped back to his son and he shouted, “Out! Julian! Out, now! Get out of the house before I chase you out! Oh, I could… I could…” some vague idea of violent outbursts existed in his mind, but he was far too gentle-born to ever resort to violence and had no idea what he could do or what he could even claim he was angry enough to do.

Geralt was outside of the house, leading Roach to the stables to properly tack her up and be on his way, unable to resist a little curiosity on behalf of the man who warmed his bed. There was plenty of shouting which was about as well of a response as he could expect from the parents of anyone he took to bed with him. But he couldn't bring himself to regret taking the boy to bed. It was good enough that it was probably worth walking into the manor and declaring for himself what he’d done to Julian Alfred Pankratz.

Julian was speaking up again, “Yes, his name is Geralt and he’s quite a gentleman. If you'd just let me explain I could--oh, well, nevermind then! I'm going, I'm going!" He hurried out the door, holding his trousers up with one hand and his lute in the other.

His father was in the doorway a second later, shouting, “I won't tolerate such indecency under my roof for another instant! Go back to Oxenfurt!" He stood in the doorway catching his breath for a moment before shouting again, "And don't forget to write! You know your mother worries when you're away... And I'll expect you home for winter! Ride safely!" With that, he slammed the door.

Julian was hurrying along to the stables, nodding with exaggerated movements to be sure his father saw that he heard everything, when he noticed he wasn’t alone. "Geralt! You're still here!" He remarked, stopping to fidget with a loose button. "I don't know how much you've heard, but...”

Geralt snorted, "I heard… Is everything okay?”

“Oh, it’s quite fine. He’s a sore loser. We do something to this effect every year, you see. My father and mother try to make an honest man out of me, and, well, to be honest I was worried I’d been outdone this year.” He chuckled, showing how pleased he was with himself.

Geralt raised a brow, curiosity and intrigue written on his features, “Put on your shoes and get your horse ready. You can tell me the rest as we ride out."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Sinderella for writing with me.  
> Thank you to Trekiegirl for providing beta reading!


End file.
